


Thor's Queen & Helblindi

by YIWT



Series: Rehabilitation [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YIWT/pseuds/YIWT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two short stories that take place after Rehabilitation.  Loki in Asgard, and Loki in Jotunheim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thor's Queen

** Thor’s Queen **

“Loki.  I want to show you something.”  Thor looked determined, which often didn’t bode well, so Loki set down his book and rose at once. He followed without comment, until Thor threw open the throne room doors and gestured with both arms towards the “improvement” he had made.

He had installed a queen’s throne.

Loki heaved a sigh. Thor had been hinting about Jane for weeks. “Thor, you can't,” he explained, in the most patient voice he possessed. “I know you think you love her, but the realm will never, ever accept a queen from Midgard.  She cannot sit here beside you.  You would anger too many people, and especially as a new king you cannot take that kind of risk.”

Thor shook his head, laughing.  “No – it's not for Jane.  I do wish to visit her, as I've said, but I would not ask her to leave her home for me.  It's not for Jane, brother.  It's for you.”

Of course.  Loki recovered quickly.  “Well,  _I_  certainly won't be your queen,” he sniffed, and then walked up to the dais to examine the addition up close.  Green and gold, just his size, a little sinister-looking perhaps but why would he expect any different. (Or want it, of course.)

The piece really was beautiful. Too bad he could never sit in it.  He sighed and turned to face his brother down the steps.  “You know I can't have a throne, Thor.  People won't like it.   _Father_  most certainly won't like it; he'll probably wake up for the express purpose of throwing me off.”

“Father can go hang.”  That struck Loki speechless, and in the silence Thor elaborated:  “You have been standing at my shoulder whispering in my ear during every single meeting and audience.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  But I do want to honor your importance openly, and if Father for some reason is not pleased with that, then he ought to have chosen an heir who could rule without your help.”

It was tempting – so tempting! – to just bow down in the face of Thor's tantrum and do as he said, but in the end Loki found himself incapable of not speaking his mind.  “It’s not as bad as Jane, brother, but acknowledging me as your counselor is also a risk.  So let's discuss.”  He spun and sat down gracefully in the new throne, letting his cloak billow, and gestured for Thor to come sit in his own.

Thor laughed as he ascended the stairs.  “You love it – I knew you would.  That throne isn't going anywhere.”

**********************************************

They compromised in the end by keeping the throne in the ether, close by, where Loki could call for it with a flick of his wrist.  He began most mornings standing at his usual place behind the king, but when they needed to have a conversation of length he would step up and draw the chair forth to sit down in.  

As he had expected there was cost involved; people began joking about  _Thor's queen_  with more and more open mockery, until before long something had to be done about it.

Thor reminded everyone that disrespecting the House of Odin - kings, princes, or otherwise - was a punishable offense.  He announced the warning loudly and publicly, but the whispers continued, and so eventually he had an offender arrested and dragged to the throne room in chains.

The prisoner was flung to the floor at the foot of the stairs.  “As it is my brother you have wronged, it is my brother who will decide your fate,” Thor said.  “But know that by offending him you have also offended me.  If Loki's sentence is too lenient, I will impose my own and I assure you it will not be.”

Loki tried not to feel surprise. Of course Thor would leave this to him. They had decided last night to have the man terrified, flogged, and released, and though it was not the first criminal Thor had passed judgment on, it  _was_  the first punishment likely to stir ugly memories and Thor hadn't particularly wanted to dwell on it. Or enact it, apparently. A king really should not be so squeamish... but lecturing him would have to wait.

Loki rose from his chair and came to the top of the stairs.  “I understand you've been referring to me – a prince of this realm and the brother of your king – in a manner that is...” He laughed, shaking his head.  "Not entirely respectful.   _Queen Loki_ , I hear?  Is that true?”  All at once he dropped his smile and leaned forward, staring down into the prisoner's eyes.  “I will know if you lie.”

The prisoner swallowed hard, and nodded yes.

“Mm.”  Loki straightened, turned away and began to pace the dais.  “That is not my title.  I wonder why you thought it was.” Perhaps he could get the fool to accuse others. It would be a convenient excuse to lock away some of the court’s undesirables, or at least leverage to hold over them and keep them compliant. He spun to face the prisoner. “Perhaps you’ll tell me.”

Eyes wide with terror, the man only stammered: “I- I didn’t really… I didn’t really think it… that is, my prince, it was only a joke. I swear it.”

So much for using this politically. If he pressed again for names everyone would sense pretext, and he might well go from  _Thor’s Queen_ to  _The Evil Queen_ in Asgard’s vocabulary. So instead he said: “Ah, I adore jokes! Let us all hear it.”  He came partway down the steps. The prisoner shrank back, along with half the spectators, and it was suddenly so satisfying to be feared that Loki decided against something as common as a beating.  “If I think it’s funny, then you will leave here a rich man.”  He paused.  “A free man.”  An even longer, more dire pause.  He dropped his voice to a growl.  “An  _alive_  man.”  The prisoner made a sobbing noise and Loki waited for his silence before continuing, briskly:  “But if your joke is  _not_  funny, then I'm going to deform you.  Do you understand?”   More sobbing.  “Now.  Tell your prince... and your king... what you said.”

As it turned out, it was not funny.  The prisoner left with extra tongues growing out of his cheek and forehead, so that he could have extra practice in controlling them, and there was much less joking about  _Thor's queen_  after that.  

(Thor asked later whether the tongues would be permanent. “Of course not,” Loki assured him, even though he had no idea.)

***********************************************

The End.

(A/N: I'm not sure that Loki is right to attribute Thor's actions to squeamishness; I think he might have just thought it polite to let Loki, as the one who has history, make the final decision in the end. Not sure though. They might discuss it someday.)

 


	2. Helblindi

** Helblindi **

Loki was met in the snow by Helblindi, the chieftain of the frost-giants. Also, Loki’s favorite.

“Greetings, child.”

“Helblindi, please. How many times have I told you:  _I am grown.”_ Until now that had always been the end of the matter, but tonight, on his fourth visit, Loki felt comfortable enough with him to go on. “Why do you insist? I don’t understand your humour – are you making fun because I’m short?” He was especially short now, wearing his Aesir form.

“I meant no offense, Loki-Prince,” Helblindi rumbled, and quite aside from the absurdly formal title, Loki was by now able to read amusement in the tone itself. The great blue shoulders shrugged. “I forget sometimes that you are ignorant of even basic politeness. We are blood and I am your elder. Thus I call you  _child_. There is no insult.”

Loki blinked. “We're blood?” He had wondered about his family, his  _true_ family, and more than once had thought of asking but had never quite worked up the courage. “I didn't know that,” he said at last.

Helblindi seemed puzzled. “You knew Laufey. Do you not see his marks on me? He was my sire.”

_You all fucking look the same to me!_ Loki was fighting a sudden panic, a feeling of claustrophobia. This was his  _brother._  His true brother. His own flesh and blood. This was what he  _was_.

“Loki?”

“I… have not yet learned to read the subtleties of Jotun markings.” It was a slow recovery but it seemed to satisfy. “It’s one of the skills I hope to perfect over time. Helblindi… you’re my...?”  _Why didn’t you tell me?_ He forced a smile. “Well. It's good to know you, brother.”

The red eyes narrowed. “I do not like your face when you speak the word  _brother,_ ” he growled. “I am the eldest son of Laufey. But from you I would have another title.”

Loki nodded. He and Helblindi saw eye-to-eye with disturbing regularity. “Certainly. What would it be appropriate for me to call you… here?”

“We are blood and I am your elder. You would greet me as  _uncle._ ”

“Uncle? Even though you’re not the brother of my parents? Interesting.” Loki tested out the word. “Uncle.”

“No.” Helblindi shook his head. “I dislike  _uncle_ on your lips too. We will find something else.”

“Hm.” Loki looked him over. He did not want to be  _brothers_  with this creature _,_ and yet… Helblindi was not a liar, and he did look rather like Laufey come to think of it. (Although, perhaps that was because all frost-giants still looked alike. He really would have to work on differentiating them.) So they were blood, which meant that  _friend_ would not do – if even they were friends. “Cousin,” he suggested at last. It was family, but safely distant. One could have strange cousins. (Monster cousins.)

Helblindi’s lips curved gently – a smile. “Yes. Cousin.”

Loki was feeling rather good about this visit so far. It was time to make the proposal he had come for. “I have the herbs you talked about,” he said. “Everything you were going to go raid for.”  _Everything you need to restock because I injured so many of you with the Bifrost beam._  “I can give them to you.”

Helblindi considered. “You cannot prevent all wars,” he said at last.

“Of course not, but it’s  _this_ war I’m concerned with right now. It’s too soon; our peace is too fragile. If Asgard sees you attacking people left and right already…”

The deep voice was calm and even. “I have explained this to you: Jotunheim herself is barren. Everything we need we must fight for. It is our way.”

“Most things perhaps you fight for,” Loki conceded, “But  _not this,_ because this time you can have it without fighting. Let me make you this gift, cousin. It’s a bad time for violence.”  _Laufey would have approved,_  he suddenly wanted to say. But for all he knew Laufey was as big a sore spot for Helblindi as Odin was for him, so perhaps it was better not to bring any old kings into the discussion. “I  _have_ what you need. I’ve got crates stacked up and ready,” he coaxed instead. “I can magick them here whenever you like.”

Helblindi pursed his lips. Considered. Finally nodded.

“Wonderful.” The sooner this was taken care of the better, so Loki said right away: “Tell me where you want it.”

A shrug. “Here.”

“Here… in the courtyard?” He had been hoping for an invitation inside. The frost-giants seemed to spend most of their time beneath the stars but they must have  _some_ sort of indoor shelter somewhere, and he felt it was rather discourteous that he had never been allowed to see it.

Still, he was coming to learn that patience and forbearance was a large part of diplomacy, at least in Jotunheim, so Loki brought forth the gift as huge neat stacks of boxes in the snow. He touched one. “You know, I used to chew on this when I was a child,” he mused. “Always. But my p-…. But everyone was always telling me that it tasted disgusting, it was for medicines only, it was not to be eaten. What does it do?”

“Had you chewed more, you would be taller.” Helblindi gestured towards a smooth snow wall. “Come.”

“Come where?”  _Inside?_

But Helblindi had stopped at the wall, and reached out to harden the snow into smooth dark ice. “Now show yourself.”

Loki no longer winced at the request. He let himself change form, and instantly his furry Aesir winter clothing was stifling and prickly and miserable, so he stripped it off.

The temperature was pleasant now, and the stars more than sufficient to see clearly by. The ice Helblindi had made gleamed – a mirror.

He understood, and drew away. “Perhaps another time,” he rasped, but Helblindi might be offended, and diplomacy was important, and so he forced out an explanation. “I have… never really seen myself, cousin. I don’t know this face.”

“It is your own face.” Helblindi was amused again, gently amused. “What sort of fool does not know his own face? Come – I will teach you about the marks you wear.”

_I will teach you_ was always hard to resist. Loki stepped forward and let Helblindi move him to the mirror. He held his breath.

“You will have to open your eyes, Loki-Prince.”

Loki didn’t, yet. “You can call me  _child,_ ” he said instead. “It is bizarre to me, but…”  _But then, so are you._ “But I’ll get used to it. Very well: teach me.”

He opened up, and met his own red eyes in the mirror.

******************************************

The End.


End file.
